


Two Strange Men in a Bookshop

by dreamer_of_darkness



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, John Mulaney - Fandom
Genre: every sentence you have to think "how would John Mulaney say this?", this is a huge mental exercise, you have to imagine it with his voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 21:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer_of_darkness/pseuds/dreamer_of_darkness
Summary: John Mulaney tells the story of why he's never going to England again at a show. It's about of two very peculiar gentlemen, a vintage car and a bookshop.





	Two Strange Men in a Bookshop

I've been to London only once in my life. I remember I was in Soho and it suddenly started raining a lot because you know, London? It was late and cold and I had no umbrella or any kind of shelter at all, so I started to panic. All stores around me were closed. And then, across the street, I see one small bookshop that looked like it was built in the 19th century and no one bothered to renovate it ever since. There was a real vintage car parked in front of it, and I don't mean an old car from the 60s, I mean a classic car from the 20s that looked brand new. It felt like I had just time traveled and was about to be murdered in an Agatha Christie novel. I step into this bookshop, and it feels crazy. There was some very weird mixed aura surrounding that place, like, somewhere between haunted and fairytale. There were shelves full of those big old dusty books you see in movies. It smelled funny. And then, from a back room, comes a dude with long, dark red hair, dressed all in black, wearing sunglasses. He was wearing sunglasses indoors. He was wearing sunglasses [horse in a hospital pause] in a bookshop! I'm not even sure that would be legal here. England is wild. Fashion doesn't exist in Soho. The guy looked at me, at least I think he did, and said [Crowley impression] _Aziraphale? You have a customer!._ But the way he phrased that, it sounded like _grrr! Another human got in! Come deal with it!._ And from that same room, comes out a middle aged blond man, wearing a beige suit and a bow tie, who looks exactly like the kind of man who owned bookshops in the 19th century. The moment he stepped into the room everything was brighter. Like he was some kind of ethereal being blessing us with his light. I was so confused and tired so I just go [anxious] _hey…_ and the dude says [Aziraphale impression] _Oh, hello dear, how can I help you?_ in the most British passive-aggressive tone I’ve ever heard. So I say [anxious] _uh… it is raining and uh… I needed to go indoors… I can buy a book if you like…_ and he immediately goes _no no no, there is no need for that_ and stands between me and the books like I just tried to steal them. And the goth dude says [soft Crowley] _Angel, don't scare the kid_ and then I was like _oooh they're married!_. I mean, as someone who is assumed gay a lot, I probably shouldn't assume other people are gay, but I'm telling you, "angel" was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. He goes like _so, what do we do then?_ and then looks at his husband like this [puppy eyes]. I felt like I was some puppy they found in the rain and they were debating what to do like [very high pitched] _can we keep it? Pleeease? Just for the night?._ I could feel the goth staring at us in disapproval through the sunglasses, it was a very uncomfortable situation. Then the blond one says _maybe we could... give him a lift home_ and his husband was like [Crowley's stutter impression] _uh, oh, nope, no, Aziraphale, please don't, not again_ and Aziraphale ignores it and asks me directly if I want a lift home and I'm like [very anxious] _oookay?_ and the guy in the sunglass goes _grrr fine_ like that happens regularly. _Grr, okay angel, but it's the last time, this is already the third one this month, we can't just take care of every puppy we find._ Normally, if two strange men in a bookshop wanted to drive me home, the last thing I would think of saying is "okay". You know I am terrified of secondary locations. But I was so tired and I just wanted to get out of there and go to sleep, so at that point, I didn't care whether they would kill me or take me to that floppy hotel room. I would pass out either way. We come out of the shop and I see the guy in black walking like he just bought these legs and isn't sure about how they work yet? He was a human pendulum with his pelvis. It looked like his thighs got a divorce and went drunk to the same carpet event, it was the sluttiest walk I had ever seen in my life. We get in the vintage car, I go in the backseat, and the car is going incredibly fast for a car from the 20s and then I realized. The passenger seat and the driver seat are swapped in Britain. The driver was the guy wearing sunglasses. At night. In the rain. That man was either immortal or had nothing to live for and he drives like it. Even the blond guy was scared. He said, and I quote, _Dear, be careful, you're going to discorporate us all!_ and then looked at me as if he just realized he told me a huge secret, and said _Kill. I mean, you're gonna kill us all._ Then, to brush it off, he suggested to put on some music as if everything was fine. It didn't help that the song that started playing was "Don't Stop Me Now" and that motherfucker in the sunglasses was going even faster. He was dancing with the car. He was going to discorporate us all indeed. What does discorporate even mean? Are they some kind of immortal who had this body for a while and really like it so they don’t wanna kill it like _grrr! I can’t believe I’ll have to get a new body, there will be so much paperwork, and this one has such a nice nose! Remember in 1857 when I got those ridiculous eyebrows?_ I was so glad when they dropped me in front of my hotel. The blond one was so nice, he opened the door to me and said _Nice to meet you, young man. Hope our paths cross again._ Well, he totally didn’t mean it, but still. So I tried to be polite too, because that’s what adults should do, right? And I said [anxious] _uh… thanks for the ride sir… sorry for the inconvenience…_ and he said, and I quote, _oh, don’t worry! It’s absolutely tickety boo!_ [slowly] Tickety boo. I think I met the only person on earth who still says that in the 21st century. So I walk into my hotel room and take a long shower. Not to wash myself of course, I’m not even sure I remembered to wash my hair, but to think about what just happened. I think about that night everyday. I will never know whether it was real or not. And that’s why, Chicago, I am never stepping in England again.


End file.
